Musings of a Lady in a Red Dress
by Starbuck0322
Summary: Plot: Richard Castle can’t seem to get the image of that red dress out of his head. ***Post “Home is Where the Heart Stops”***
1. Chapter 1

**Musings of a Lady in a Red Dress by Starbuck0322**

Plot: Richard Castle can't seem to get the image of that red dress out of his head. ***Post "Home is Where the Heart Stops"***

Status: Incomplete

This is just the start... expect some juicyness later! Caskett indeed!

****

Precinct 12 is a buzz of noise and movement this hour. Although it is lunchtime, detectives, officers, trainees, and witnesses, flood the office, conversing and shouting. There is a steady hum in the air of ringing telephones, faxes and copiers. It is rare at this time of day but Detective Kate Beckett and author Richard Castle find themeselves walking down a vacant hallway.

He stops abruptly, lightly touching her arm. "How about dinner? My place. 8 o'clock."

She smiles at him, her eyebrow raising, and bites the side of her lip playfully. "What's the deal Castle? First breakfast. Now... this."

"Oh you're good Detective. Actually, I did have an alterior motive." He raises a hand placing it on the back of her shoulder, letting his hand gently slide down her arm, pulling her hand into his own. Fingertips touching, he can see there is hesitation in her, feel the silent shiver run down her back. "I was hoping to get you back into that dress. You know... get my moneys worth."

She pulls her hand away, blushing. "Sorry Castle, it was a one time shot." She smiles. "You were lucky to get me into it once."

"I was actually hoping to get you out of it too," he mumbles.

"I'm sorry?"

A smirk and he utters, "Nothing."

He avoids her glare, his eyes lowering, taking their time to trace her body. "But the dress was sooo you."

Footsteps fall behind them, breaking his gaze. Esposito pops up behind Beckett raising his fist in Castle's direction. Castle and him bump fists together, pulling back, fanning their hands together. "Thanks again for that Castle." Looking back at Beckett, Esposito heads down the hall, a jump to his step.

She cocks her head in Castle's direction. "You're not going to let this one go are you?"

"Nope." he says playfully rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"I have a question for you Castle."

"Shoot." He gasps bringing his hands up quickly in front of him, raising them to his defence. "Figure of speach." And then grimacing. "You know what I mean."

"How did you manage to figure out my dress size?"

'Oh... she's dying to know is she?" He says leaning into her. A deep breath.

"The thought had crossed my mind." She looks away and begins her way down the hall.

"Elementary my dear Watson, a gentleman never reveals his secrets." He catches up to her, remarking on how her steps have quickened, adding, "You know I was serious about the invitation."

She does not say anything for a moment but she is smiling at him, a side glance and it feels like several moments before she utters, "Alright Castle, I'll be there at 8."

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Musings of a Lady in a Red Dress **by Starbuck0322

Chapter 2... The dinner...

***

It is 9:30 when Kate Beckett pulls her car into the garage of Richard Castle's building in the upper east side of Manhattan Island. She smiles at her luck as her car takes up residence in the final visitor parking space. Turning the key in the ignition, she places her head in her hands, and the beating of the intuitive battle continues.

She wonders if she has made the right decision in agreeing to this evening. If there had really been more to the invitation for a simple dinner at his residence. But he had provided her the dress, had not humiliated her like she had thought we would. In fact Beckett was certain that Richard Castle knew exactly how to flatter her. And it had worked, and that was more than enough to make her reconsider the invitation. He knew how to bend her, as if she was putty in his hand. A position which frightened her, making her feel weak, vulnerable.

Even now she is unsure whether it was her who had decided her present outfit; her short skirt, her low cut top which exposed more Detective Beckett than her male counterparts had ever seen, even before the infamous red dress. And she smiles remarking how Castle knew how to flatter her figure, knew every curve, every line, like he had studied her, like he had characterized her himself.

Her hand mechanically takes the key out of the ignition, as if her will is pulling her from her seat, placing a high healed pump on the floor of the garage, locking the car, drawing her to the elevator.

She allows herself an unsteady sigh, checking her heart rate, as the numbers on the elevator keypad illuminate. And it feels as if seconds have passed before she is standing, rapping gently on Richard Castle's door.

The door opens abruptly, Castle standing, a look of bewilderment on his face. A towel in hand, he smiles at her.

"My goodness Detective, I was beginning to think I had to send out an APB on you myself."

Her cheeks flush, as she looks down, lightly kicking the carpet.

"I apologise it's just..." She trails on searching his features, her eyes unsteady, glistening, catching the dim light flooding from the apartment.

And she is searching for the right words to offer, to keep from looking childish in her hesitation to come here, to keep him from knowing her secret. For as hard as she has tried, the infatuation, her feelings for this man were difficult to evade. And for a second she allows herself to wonder if she has been searching for this her whole life, if everything in the past were steps along the way for her to be standing here, looking at him with such hope, that maybe, he could forgive her and let her in.

He offers a smile, snapping her from her reverie, relaxing her features, "Its fine Detective," motioning for her to enter, "May I take your coat?"

She answers his command, turning to look around his apartment which seems unfamiliar in this late hour. The table is set, candles lit, roses for a centerpiece. An unsteady sigh again, her fingers twisting together. "I guess good things come to those who wait, eh Castle?"

"Let's hope so," he says, taking her coat placing on a hanger. His smile is playful which softens her.

"It's not too late?" she mutters, eyebrow raised, looking toward him for reassurance.

He takes a step toward her, "For you, it's never too late", his voice melodic, he motions toward the table, placing a hand on her lower back which straightens instantly at his touch, "Wine?"

And unsteady, she answers, "Please".

He pulls the chair out for her, and she abides, pulling in her skirt. She can feel his hesitation as he adds, warm breath against her ear, "You're nervous Detective." The smell of his cologne surrounding her, his lips inches from her cheek, "Don't be."

Knees about ready to buckle, she sits, welcoming the few seconds he has given her alone to collect herself. The room is dim, soft music plays on from another room in the apartment. The crackling of a fire compliments the mood. She thinks to herself, at least she had made it his far. After all, what is a mere dinner between friends?

It seems as if in one motion Castle returns plates in hand, "I hope you like duck l'orange," he quips, placing the meal before her, turning the plate with artistic integrity.

She offers a reassured smile as he takes up his seat, cornered from her, "Thank you. I do."

He smiles at her taking up his napkin, draping it over his lap. A familiar smile, a smile she has seen too often when Richard Castle had guessed the right suspect, had made a break in a case. And now as she thinks back to the previous evening, it is the same smile she had seen when he opened his door, impressed with his gift of a red dress.

"Bon Appétit."


	3. Chapter 3

**Musings of a Lady in a Red Dress** by Starbuck0322

Chapter 3... the reading...

***

Several glasses of wine later, with dinner settling in their bellies, dessert plates cleaned and stacked, Richard Castle and Kate Beckett find themselves trapped in a moment of silence, staring at one another with hazy contemplation. Eyes glistening in their drunken stuper, relaxed and unabaited. It is Castle who is the first to break their concentration.

"Come with me," he says offering his hand, rising from the table. He sees the hesitation in her eyes, notices the biting of her lower lip. "I want to show you something." He motions again, satisfied as her hand slips into his. "Bring your glass," he adds reaching around her, grabbing a full bottle of wine.

Walking down a hallway, to an area of the house Beckett has not seen yet, Castle guides his muse to his study opening the door to the area dimly lit by a gas fire place. Bookcases line the room, a desk at the center. It is more comforting than his office, a large leather armchair and loveseat are the only other pieces.

He motions for her to sit in the loveseat, letting go of her hand walking to his desk. Opening a drawer he pulls a large stack of paper, several hundreds of sheets high.

He pauses looking back to her, a look of admiration.

"The first draft." he says, a tone of triumph.

He picks up the large stack of paper, bringing it with him, taking a seat beside Beckett. He reaches over to grab the bottle of wine he had brought with him, lazily filling their glasses. Beckett's eyes are sheepishly drawn to the manuscript and she pauses in silent observation. She was in there, in amongst the lines, with the i's dotted and the t's crossed.

"So this is what you do when you're not bugging me?" She says drawing her glass to her lips.

"Funny," he says looking back at her. "When I'm not with you I'm writing about you. Writing about Nikki Heat." He says sorting through the manuscript.

"Yes, the slightly slutty version of me with, what did you call it, haunting good looks," she says amused.

"I believe that's how I described her."

"Seriously Castle, I'm impressed." Brushing a piece of her hair out of her eyes. "But it's not finished?"

He clears his throat. "No, that's what I wanted to show you. I'd like to read something. I'm not sure I have it right yet."

She curls back into the corner of the love seat, pulling her legs up into her body. "Shoot Castle."

He looks to her gasping in mockery, but she has succombed, her eyes closing. Her breath steady, and he begins.

_He turned his collar up against the cold and he then suddenly understood. Nikki Heat had been in love. That much he could be sure of. The truth in this moment was... her heart had once been broken. He was certain by the hesitation in her step, the hunching of her shoulders that she was wounded. And while the scars never showed on the outside, Detective Heat held onto more pain than she should have. Silently pleading with each new turn, the possibility to find a new love, and to let someone in. _

_As the rain began to fall, the wet streets of Broadway busy in this ungodly hour, he is thinking of her. How she deserved so much more than she received. He would want to tell her that this journey was not over for her. That there was always a possibility as long as hope survived. _

_She was beautiful, far beyond anyone he had ever seen; stunning even, alluring. He was taken with her, it was true, to the extent he wished he could breath her, that the world was heavy when he was not with her. But he could not confess this, could not ease his heavy thoughts. Perhaps in time she could grow to love again, and he was hoping with all distinction that he was there when she rediscovered her worth._

Castle looks up from reading, and sees Beckett staring at him, eyes wide, brimming, attempting to blink off the heavy effect of the liquor, her lips slightly parted.

He wonders if he has gone too far, revealed too much. He looks away from her, back to his book, placing the sheet in order. "Well, like I said, its not finished."

Beckett's feet find the floor, a shaking hand placing her glass on the antique table in front of them. "I'm no so sure, it sounds like you have something there." She hesitates before adding, looking down at her watch, "Well, thank you very much for dinner". She rises to her feet, an awkward step back.

He stands quickly grabbing her arm so she can catch her balance. They giggle together, avoiding one another's gaze.

"Well that does it. You're going to need to call me a cab," she says looking up at him.

"Or you could always stay longer. I have something else to show you." His hands travel the length of her arms, slowly reaching her fingertips, releasing her.

The haunting of his touch lingering on her bare arms, she smiles. "I think its best if I go."

A heavy sigh and he takes a step toward the desk, "A cab it is then."


	4. Chapter 4

**Musings of a Lady in a Red Dress** by Starbuck0322

Chapter 4... late hour wanderings... the final chapter...

***

Outside the apartment of Richard Castle, rain falls in sheets upon the streets of Manhattan. The night's air is cool, a wind rising in the city, winding its way down vacant streets.

Inside the apartment, footsteps fall upon lavish wood flooring, treading their way across the threshold of the bedroom of Richard Castle.

Placing a hand on his shirtless shoulder, Kate Beckett takes a seat beside the writer who is nestled in his bed, she is smoothly whispering, "Castle?"

He murmurs and shrugs off her hand, pulling the bed sheets over him, saying, "Mom. It's not time for school yet. Just five more minutes."

Annoyed Beckett pulls her body onto the bed, raising one leg over him, straddling his waist. Lifting her voice slightly she says, "Castle. It's me. Beckett."

Castle shifts slightly rubbing his eyes, attempting to focus on his visitor.

"Wha?" he begins, hands drawn to his face, he rubs his eyes. "Detective?"

"Hi Castle," she says, readjusting her position. His body is warm beneath her.

Shaking off the remnants of sleep, grasping at the present situation, Castle smirks, looking up at her. Her hair wet, dripping, eyes dark and wild. The light from the street floods his room across his bed to him and his muse.

He shakes his head lightly, "What's up Detective? To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She is looking at her hands placed on his chest but doesn't answer.

He is trying his best to search her features, trying to read her, but the variable lighting in the room is challenging his analysis.

"Kate?" he continues. "Are you ok?"

"You never told me Richard. How is it that you know me so well?" She finally utters leaning back, grabbing her shoes throwing them to the floor.

"I'm a writer Detective. It's what I do."

She draws a fist, punching his arm.

"Ow," he utters, reaching up to rub his shoulder.

"Tell me oh wise writer, did you see that one coming too?"

It seems as if in one instant, he is grabbing her legs flipping her over onto her back so he is above her now, her legs still straddling him. A moment of shock traces across her face. She is playfully biting her lip again.

"You want to get rough Katie?" he says reaching below him to grab her wrists, placing her hands over her head, "Because I can play rough."

But she is not affected by him, instead looks at him teasingly, lifting her head slightly. "Just answer the damn question, Castle."

He takes a moment releasing her hands slightly, hands travelling down the sides of her body. He leans into her, the hair on her arms rising to attention, his focus intent. His face inches from her, breath warm on her cold skin, the heat rising within him.

He smiles, then, "Do you have any idea how many times I undressed you in my mind? Imagined what you looked like under those smart suits. That Detective, is how I knew your dress size, how I knew how each inch of material would fit you so perfectly. I didn't need to guess. I knew. Like I could have written it myself."

She can feel his breath on her skin, can feel the hesitation in his hands on her body. Eyes intent on hers, she lets a small gasp as his fingers find the seam of her skirt, edging slowly upward on the outside of her leg. Instantly her breathing increases, as he looks down to see her chest rise. He stops inching forward, looking to her eyes, her lips, searching for hesitation, searching for a silent plea for him to stop. But she offers nothing, caught in his grasp, the weight of his body pushing against her, she has surrendered.

"You curious Rick?"

"You have no idea," he says, eyes travelling down the length of her legs, long and muscular.

She cocks her head slowly raising her lips to his. They meet kneading, pleading, lips parted, tongues gently prickling. Her breath increasing as her tongue travels further into his mouth, searching. His grasp is steady, one hand holding his body above her, the other cupped behind her knee.

He is the first to pull away from their kiss. A boyish smile spreading across his face, the passion growing within him, that she can feel all to easily pressing against her. He is attempting to collect his thoughts, he here, she there. This is Kate Beckett below him, a look of hunger on her face. But all that he can process is how delicious she looks in the dim lighting, how his body wants so badly to devour her, how the scent of her is taking over his senses. And he thinks back to the first moment he saw her, how he was certain he would eventually be here. Whether or not he had written it himself.

"Kate?" he begins, but she shifts her body under him, arching her back slightly, leaning back to balance on her elbows, rocking against him gently. His eyes close in an instant, letting out a sigh, he leans forward, arms flexing.

She pulls her face closer toward him, her hair brushing his cheek, her breath against his ear, whispering, "You look nervous, Mr. Castle." He feels her smile against his cheek, "Don't be." She brings her lips back to his, hungry, temptation urging him on.

She pulls away, lying back, wild eyes looking to him as she continues to shift beneath him. His hands finally moving down her leg once again, "Jesus Beckett." Fingers playfully grabbing at soft fabric, finding an elastic, carefully tugging.

The triumphant smile returns to Richard Castle's face as he pulls his prize, gently tossing them to the floor. Warm hands travel the length of her again, soft and inviting to his will. Gentle tugging movements and Kate Beckett groans under him, her hands pulling at her shirt, disrobing hurriedly. As he traces lines, she cannot find words, cannot find images, warm and accepting she is of his talents, her breathing quickening, her face twisting with each prick.

His eyes intent on her, watching her face, quickening and slowing with each moan. Until finally he can feel her uncontrollable, and she is moaning his name.

He allows her to catch her breath, his tongue tracing the curves of her chest, salty and sweet.

"Jesus Christ Richard."

He smiles up at her, his tongue falling beneath the edge of the lace, soft and tender, raising at his beckoning.

She murmurs something but it is lost in the translation of his efforts, her legs wrapping tighter around him.

"Do you still want me to call you that cab?" He says drawing his face to hers.

A look of scorn and she extends her lips to his, taking his bottom lip, biting tenderly. "Don't make me go Detective on your ass."

He smiles back at her, deepening the kiss, a breath and then, "Is that a promise?"

They make short work of the remainder of her clothing, and he takes a second to pull back admiring his work, cold air touching her skin where his warm body once was. Tight and inviting, Kate Beckett is everything he had thought her to be and more.

"Castle?" She says waking him from his reverie, legs tightening around him again, gently rocking him, urging him toward her. He abides catching her rhythm, abiding to her will. Two friends, becoming two lovers, becoming one love in the early hours of the morning, as the rain continues to fall in sheets, the wind howling outside, running wildly through vacant streets.

As their union comes to end and they fall exhausted in each other arms, smiling she closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of him.

Richard Castle does not close his eyes, does not dare to move. For such things as this can not be written, can not be contained to lines on a page. Yes, some things as this must be shared, for some things such as love must be let in.

---Fin.


End file.
